


Monsters in the Time of Shut Down

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: Somewhere Between Kansas and the Open Road [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, Drabble, Gen, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Missing Scene, POV Sam Winchester, SPN Shut Down Bingo, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23631709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: Sam and Dean in the bunker during the shut down, looking for a case.SPN Shut Down Bingo Fill: Free Space
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Somewhere Between Kansas and the Open Road [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698406
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Monsters in the Time of Shut Down

Sam stepped into the library of the bunker and grimaced at what he found. The table was littered with newspapers and both his own and Dean’s laptops sat open and ready while Dean jabbed uselessly at the phone in his hand. He looked tired; hair messy from constantly running fingers through it while the empty glass at his elbow revealed just how much he’d been drinking.

“No luck?”

Dean glared, throwing his phone down, “this is bullshit man. All the newspapers want to talk about is the stupid virus. How the hell are we supposed to find a case if they keep ignoring the murders?”

Sam held back a sigh, setting a cup of coffee down in front of Dean and cradling his own as he took a seat. It was the same conversation they had been having for a little over a week. He knew Dean liked the bunker, felt comfortable and at home here, but they’d been cooped up for a little over a week and a half and it was obvious his brother was starting to resent the confinement.

“How about we go for a drive? Supermarket run; the fridge is practically empty.”

It was true, Dean had been making dinner almost every night and their fridge was suffering for it. Usually, that wasn’t a big deal, they liked getting their stock low before heading out on a case so nothing would spoil, had perfected the art of eating the produce just on time and making one last meal to keep for when they finally dragged themselves back.

But there was no case this time.

“I don’t want to go for a drive man,” Dean sipped at the coffee, glared at his computer. “I want a case. A ghost, a ghoul, a werewolf…hell I’d settle for a wendigo right about now.”

Wiping at his eye he reached out to grab his laptop and pull it closer, “let me see what I can find.”

Dean’s eyes lit up as he picked up one of the local newspapers, “that-a-boy Sammy.”

Sam hid his frown with the lid of his laptop, nowhere near as committed to finding a case as his brother was. The truth of the matter was that even if he managed to find a case, travelling out of state was going to be difficult with the virus putting most people on lockdown, even then, they were bound to be under more scrutiny than ever if they were just out driving. Their badges would only get them so far, claiming to be FBI would almost immediately make people weary, assuming they were coming from Washington and bringing the virus with them…let alone trying to get into the homes of victims.

Leaving the bunker wasn’t practical, not unless it was for something really big. Sam hated the idea of not doing everything he could to help those people suffering out there right now but him and Dean had become used to the reality that they couldn’t stop every monster before it killed. They had to rest sometime…and frankly, Sam was just getting used to the way things were now, the tentative schedule that had arose between them.

Castiel and Jack usually spent their spare time in library or kitchen. Sam was finally able to catch up on research and had almost reached the end of what seemed like infinite rooms within the bunker, while Dean had taken to hanging out in the garage, kitchen, and armory. The occasional hunter had been passing by too, looking for a place to rest and eat amid all the local closures. Hell, they’d even become something of a casual supply run for ammo now. This was one of the few solid pauses they’d taken in a long while, Chuck seemed to have moved underground and so far, nothing had indicated the virus was his own doing.

Things were calm. This was their chance to regroup not be distracted by hunts.

Dean suddenly let out an explosive sigh making Sam flinch, “alright, I can hear you thinking from here, what is it?”

Sam didn’t bother trying to deny it, Dean could take one look at him and know when something was on his mind, even if it was just him obsessing over the latest ancient text he had found. Still, he wasn’t sure how to say the words, how to tell Dean that maybe where they were right now was fine, that this was what they needed. It always felt impossible when it came to hunts, when Dean was itching out of his skin to hit the road and bloody his hands.

There was a need, a compulsion for the hunt. They both had it.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, flicking them over his face and Sam did his best not to react. Found himself unsurprised when his brother nodded to himself, as though confirming some secret suspicion and decidedly picked up his phone again, letting it go. Not for the first time, Sam thought they had come a long away.

Refocusing on his task, Sam searched the local newspapers for at least four towns adjacent to theirs. They didn’t usually stay so close to home, passed if off to other hunters so that they wouldn’t blow their cover. He figured the quarantine would erase most of the risk, low chance of running into them again.

Opening the advance searches, Sam made sure to block anything related to the virus focused on everything from missing persons and murders to mysterious cattle deaths. He was casting wide net and opening it came back empty.

He didn’t have to wait long. Sam blinked down at the results, finger scrolling gently past headlines, clicking into new windows, unable to help the frown stealing over his lips once more. He felt more then saw Dean watching him, tensing in preparation for something, fingers drumming excitedly against his leg. Sam kept scrolling, read about cattle that had been drained dry, about the murder of a local shopkeeper and his mistress, read about the apparently Satanic runes covering every inch of an eight-century home that were obvious wiccan in nature and not Satanic.

On and on, Sam found story after story in the towns surrounding the bunker, their locations slowly closing in on where they themselves were. Each one was buried almost at the end of the online newspapers and were almost unrecognizable amid the blearing headlines of store closures and new isolation regulations.

They might be in the middle of a shut down, but it seemed like the monsters of the week had become something of a roving gang. Dean was right, like he so often was.

“You found a case?”

Dean was leaning forward now, eyes bright and a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. He had known all he needed to do was get Sam to sit down and they’d have a case, the lazy bastard. Sam wiped at his eyes, felt himself straighten up and despite all his misgivings, a low thrum of anticipation began to move through his veins and twist his stomach.

“Yeah Dean, I found a case.”


End file.
